“Yes,” they state, and lunge before I can make a sound.

The demon slings me over their shoulder like a sack of yams, jerking my body around so much my head spins. A squishy, hot arm wraps around the back of my knees, holding me in place. A scream builds in my throat, but I gag on the putrid stench steaming from their body.

There’s a blur, then an abrupt stop that sends my chin crashing into the demon’s wet spine. I gag again. Mildewed slop clings to my face.

Before I can orient myself, the demon pulls me down and around until I’m hanging like a doll, feet swinging off the ground. I struggle, but they only pull tighter, cutting off my breath in one sharp motion. I can’t get enough air.

We’re back at the Chapel, where the eight Legendborn and Lord Davis have cornered the second hellhound. Fitz and Nick have just speared it through when the demon holding me emits a hellish scream. “Pendragon!”

Everyone turns at once.

Nick’s father shoots his son a silencing glare, and steps forward. Davis fingers the grip of a longsword in a scabbard at his side, a weapon that he’d hidden beneath his robe. “Why have you come, uchel?”

“Which of you is the Pendragon?”

Davis keeps his voice easy, calm. A Southern gentleman simply greeting a newcomer. “I am who you seek.” His eyes flick to me. “You have one of our Pages. Let the girl go and we’ll talk. Just you and me.”

The demon’s teeth clack against one another in a chittering pattern, like they are displeased. Clackclackclack. “She will be easy to take apart, deceiver.” Razor-sharp nails drag a burning path down my cheek, slicing my skin open. I scream.

“Stop!” Nick shouts, already moving forward.

The hand at Davis’s side clenches into a fist. It must be a signal, because the other Legendborn move in tight around Nick, locking him into place. Guarding him. Rage blooms across his face.

The demon points at Nick with one dripping claw. “He is who we seek.”

“We?” Davis says, curious concern crossing his expression.

“Give him to us, Legendborn.” The demon’s hand tightens slowly around my chest, and black pain threatens to take over my vision. One of my ribs is bending, bending…

“I don’t think so.” Davis darts forward, pulling his blade as he runs, but he’s nowhere near fast enough. There’s another blur, and then the demon has the older man by the throat with one large hand, while still gripping me with the other. Davis’s sword drops to the stone with a loud clatter.